


The Things We Never Said

by gertrude_is_offline



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Letters, Multi, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertrude_is_offline/pseuds/gertrude_is_offline
Summary: Clarke made radio calls; Bellamy wrote letters. Six years in space gave him time to reflect on everything he never said to her. He wrote her a letter every day, disappearing into his room for hours at a time. He never imagined that he'd have an opportunity to give them to her. When they arrive on Sanctum, he wants to give her those letters more than ever. Something (Josephine) always manages to get in the way.Octavia's arrival on Sanctum gives her a chance to reflect on everything she did to survive during those dark years in the bunker. She remembers all that she loved and lost before, but she remembers more than anything that Niylah remained at her side, supporting her. If only she hadn't ruined it. She and Diyoza reflect on their past mistakes and weigh their crimes as they attempt survival one last time.Murphy, Raven, and Emori come to terms with certain decisions they made on the ring while Murphy tries to sort out his feelings for both women.





	1. 2,199 Days

**Author's Note:**

> My plan for this fic is for each chapter to be written from a different perspective. I was inspired by the conversation Bellamy and Clarke had at the beginning of the season about her radio calls. I remember specifically that he jokingly called them pathetic. I wondered what it would be like if Bellamy went through something similar, desperately wanting to reach her for years. That's the plot we begin with. Everything else will reveal itself as the story continues. Thanks for reading.

Bellamy stared out at a scorched Earth as everyone else adjusted to their new home. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized what starting over truly meant. He looked for signs of life, anything that could inspire hope. A dead planet was the only thing he saw. He thought of sacrifice, of every sacrifice he had ever been forced to make. Was this life worth living? How could he continue, knowing that Clarke had drawn her last breath. How could he make the important decisions without her weighing in? He was a wreck without her. 

The head and the heart... that conversation was all he could think about. He sighed as he took another glance at their temporary home. Earth had never belonged to them; it devoured them alive and spit them back out once it had swallowed their humanity. He felt the tears creeping back into the corners of his eyes; he shook them away. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, the hand of John Murphy. 

"Bellamy," he said, his tone softer than usual, "It's ok to grieve. We all understand what she was to you."

It was strange to see Murphy's soft side, although it didn't offer much consolation. If Murphy took pity on him, he must look like one pathetic son of a bitch. Raven approached from the other side of the room, relieving Murphy. 

"Clarke is a hero, Bellamy. She died a hero, and now we all have a second chance. We can redeem ourselves; none of the choices we made need to follow us."

Bellamy turned away from Raven, angry that she accepted Clarke's death; angry that nobody on the ring would understand how he felt.

"Just work on the damn radio, Raven. Work on establishing contact with the bunker." _Prove that you deserve to be here more than she does._

Bellamy had learned about the stages of grief in school, but he never understood them until that first day. Entering the anger stage, he realized that he couldn't face his friends. He certainly couldn't face Echo. She didn't deserve to live because of Clarke's sacrifice. He looked at her from across the room. She was speaking to Emori, acting as if she belonged there. He felt not only anger, but pure disbelief. He wished more than anything that he could trade her life for Clarke's. 

What the hell was wrong with him? These were evil thoughts. He had to do better. He had to remove himself from the situation. 

He chose his room quickly, deciding on one that was far away from the others. Living in isolation was what was best for the current situation. It wasn't the nicest room and most definitely not the largest, but it was what he needed. Space. _How ironic._

On the first night in his new home, he found an old stationary set in a drawer. He sat down at the desk, meditating on all of the things he wished he had said to her. He thought of all of the glances, the heart to hearts, the missed opportunities. He remembered the first time they had connected, that night she had convinced him to return to camp with her. He thought of their first great sacrifice, Mount Weather. Mostly, he thought of all the times their responsibilities had gotten in the way. He imagined a simpler life, one in which they might get the opportunity to fill the silence with something other than debate and heavy decisions. 

He knew that the appropriate way to grieve would be to lay all of those feelings out before him, so he put pen to paper and began writing everything he wished he had said to her. He began with his true feelings, those that he had never been able to speak into existence. He pretended as though she sat before him, to listen to him, to hear his words. He pretended as if they had nothing else to say. There were no strategies to discuss, and there was ample silence to fill with murmured "i love yous" and sighs of happiness. He took solace in this head space. The first night, he learned to grieve without the seven stages. His first letter, an introduction to the 2,198 that followed, was a cry out in the night.

Each letter that followed was another step forward for him. He enjoyed the catharsis that this honesty brought him. Each letter was a pure stream of consciousness. He wrote only to her and without a filter, as if she were sitting in front of him and he were fearless. Six years and 7 days; 2,199 different conversations. Some of them were mundane, recounting his days on the ring or the changes he observed in the dynamics and relationships between his friends. Others were more profound, like the talks they had often had on Earth when they were still questioning the meaning of their tiresome journey together. 

Bellamy was consistent in his writing, even when he found himself biding his time in the arms of another woman. He knew that he could never tell Echo, though she didn't seem to mind that he disappeared for extended periods of time to write. She knew just as well as everyone else what he had lost. 

"It's ok, Bellamy," Echo had said, "leaving her behind took courage, but it had to be done."

He knew that Echo would never understand him, but he also knew that she was there. She was tangible; she was alive. She didn't complain when mumbled Clarke's name in his sleep, and she didn't say anything when he shuddered at the mention of the other woman. Maybe she was looking for something that she couldn't quite find either. Maybe she was using Bellamy the same way he was using her. 

As he watched his friends age six years, he realized that they had become a family. He realized that he would have to put their lives before his own, and he was finally ready to accept the responsibility. He had matured, and he found himself making decisions that Clarke would be proud of. He found himself weighing options and not letting his emotions get the best of him. In his last letter, he explained to her how much he had grown. He imagined that she would have been proud of the man he had become. He smiled at the thought. 

Everything changed after that last letter. The world was thrust into his hands once again. Life was moving too quickly, and there was no time to think once he learned the Clarke was alive. There was no time to address the feelings, and there was no time to read letters. 

She was by his side again, but she was different. She had a family of her own, one that he couldn't fit himself into. The betrayal hung between them. Octavia's decisions weighed them down and forced them to take drastic measures. The air was thick with blood and tough choices. Suddenly, the world was ending again. The world was ending and he still carried 2,199 letters, bound together in volumes. 

When Madi told him about Clarke's radio calls, he felt the weight of her words hit like a ton of bricks. He had been Clarke's hope just as she had been his. He wanted nothing more than to tell her about the letters, to tell her how he felt once and for all. There was just no time. 

Then came the darkness, the cryosleep that lasted far too long. One thing after another as it always was. The relief of seeing her when they were both awake. Realizing the sacrifice Monty and Harper made so that they all could be there. Another chance at starting over. One hundred and fifty years of emotion hit him all at once. He sat down in front of the large window, Clarke taking her place on the floor next to him. 

"Here we go again," she mumbled. She grabbed his hand. 

"Let's hope we don't waste another chance," he said. He didn't want to waste any more moments. He wanted her, and he wanted to do right by Monty and Harper. 

"I think we should talk, Clarke."

"Bellamy, we can talk once we wake everyone else up. We don't have a moment to waste." 

_We don't have a moment to waste..._

Upon their arrival on Sanctum, life began to move at light speed again. Shaw's death, the red sun, the weight of the world. Their conversation about the radio calls had been cut short before he could tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her about the letters more than anything, but the cowardice crept back into his mind. He found himself caught between his responsibilities and his feelings once again. 

And then came Josephine, along with the realization that he had lost Clarke once again. Then followed the realization that she would never read what he had written to her. The world fell upon his shoulders, and he felt the urge to shrug. Echo, as supportive as she was, still couldn't grasp the concept of his loss. 

He remembered the desperation and cries for help that he had experienced after Clarke's first death. Every feeling from that period was amplified the minute he realized Josephine was inhabiting her body. He lashed out, and he plead with death. He raised his shackled fists to the sky, realizing that the people who had imprisoned him were monsters, murderers, and thieves. Clarke's body had become a shell. He couldn't find the correct way to grieve. Broken, empty, and beside himself, he agreed to a deal with Russell.

And then Clarke was alive, once again. He realized that the task ahead would prove difficult. He knew exactly what he had to do. Kidnapping Josephine was the easiest decision he ever made. 


	2. Darkness Prevails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia comes to grips with the most difficult decisions she made in the bunker as she and Diyoza exchange stories while trapped in "quicksand". The entire truth of the dark year comes to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that I wanted to pair Octavia with Niylah for this fic because it feels like a natural fit, and I find it hard to believe that Octavia spent all of those years alone, nobody there to console her. I got the idea for this story line from Octavia and Diyoza's talk about their respective decisions. Diyoza seems to believe that Octavia can be redeemed, but Octavia has been forced to see herself as a monster. It's an interesting dynamic to play with.

Octavia was tired. 

She was completely exhausted, despite being a cryosleep for 125 years. Up until that point, every moment of her life had been dedicated to survival. She had fought passionately for over six years, and what did that earn her? The complete destruction of Earth and colonization on a seemingly hostile planet didn't seem like a fair prize. Bellamy's disdain, while understandable, didn't seem a fair cost for survival. 

Diyoza followed closely behind her, dragging her heavy feet through fallen leaves. Octavia didn't understand how Diyoza could live with her mistakes. Octavia wanted nothing more than to lie down and let the world punish her for everything she had done. She thought about all those decisions that she had seen Clarke make, and she finally understood them. She understood that love was weakness and that strong leaders made decisions that would guarantee the survival of the majority. Not everyone was able to survive, but that didn't matter as long as most of their people made it out. 

If only she had known that playing God makes one a monster. 

Images played out behind her eyes... the fighting pits, the first treacherous decisions, the bargaining with herself each night before she slept, Niylah's hand on hers in the darkness.

NO.

She blinked the images away. Suddenly her feet fell through the ground. She heard Diyoza gasp beside her. What followed was an annoying amount of time spent trying not to sink any further, followed by an annoying conversation with Xavier. Octavia didn't enjoy bargaining for survival, but here she was, a mouse caught in a trap as the cat held salvation over her head. 

Whatever; she could wait this one out. 

There she stood, the woman she had fought for salvation on Earth by her side. They now, for some unknown and mysterious reason, banded together. It was an unholy alliance. As the sun lowered over the horizon, a million colors painting the sky, Octavia realized that her life would always be about survival and the sacrifices that had to be made. She wondered how Diyoza lived with the choices she made; she wondered how anyone with that many demons could possibly have time to face them all.

"How can you live knowing what you've done to survive?" Octavia spoke the question before she realized what she was doing. 

"You know, I ask myself that every day. Before I was arrested, I was ready to die for a cause. I believed that what I was doing was the right thing. People can call me a terrorist and a monster, but I always stood behind my own decisions. That takes confidence. All I ever wanted was freedom. I slit my throat when the authorities showed up because I'd rather have died than been a prisoner." 

She looked down at her stomach and smiled.

"Now I live for her. I live with the hope that she can grow up in a safe environment. She'll never have to become a monster or do anything drastic to survive. Most importantly of all, she'll learn from my mistakes. What do you live for Octavia?"

Octavia didn't speak. She didn't know that she needed a reason to live. Her entire life had been about survival, never living. She thought of Bellamy, of his hatred for her. She thought of the look on his face when he told her that his sister had died a long time ago. Maybe she was living for redemption, for the chance to live a life worth living. She yearned for peace more than anything, but maybe they didn't deserve peace. She didn't even know what peace felt like. 

But then she thought of Niylah, the woman who had seen her through the darkest years in the bunker. When her deepest fears and the burden of being a leader became too heavy, Niylah had been there. She held her when she couldn't sleep; when the the flashes of faces in the fighting pits played before her every time she closed her eyes. Niylah understood Octavia while most others feared her. 

Octavia remembered the first night of the dark year vividly. She closed the door to her chambers and began to weep, coping with the decision she had been forced to make. She fell to the floor, letting the weight of the decision pull her into the darkness. Did mankind deserve to survive at the cost of losing its humanity. Why did she deserve to weigh the lives of her people and decide who would live? She pulled her knees to her chest, the nausea from that night's meal finally kicking in. 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Octavia composed herself and opened it against her better judgment. Niylah stood there nervously, her arms at her sides.

"You don't have to be tough right now. You just made a horrible bargain for survival, and I understand how that must feel. You don't have to put up this facade around me."

Octavia let her face fall, and she moved to the bed to sit down. Niylah shut the door behind her and moved to Octavia's side, putting her arms around the other woman. 

"I never asked for the burden of every life on this planet," Octavia said, "But I couldn't have turned it down. Somebody will always be forced to step up. We will always play this treacherous game for our survival."

Niylah pulled Octavia closer, and Octavia finally let the armor fall. She looked into Niylah's eyes and saw something there that she hadn't seen in a long time. 

Niylah pressed her lips to Octavia's, asking. Octavia returned the kiss, accepting. It was a tender and genuine moment, followed by many similar moments until Octavia realized that she didn't have to be alone through this. She refused to share this burden, but that didn't mean she couldn't allow herself to accept the comfort of a lover. 

"Octavia," Diyoza said, ending the memory. 

Octavia looked back at Diyoza, realizing that she had been asked a question.

"I guess I live for myself," Octavia said, revealing nothing. 

Diyoza chuckled beside her. "You can lie all you want Octavia, but I know that you have a heart buried beneath that cold, hard exterior."

"You don't know me," Octavia said.

"Octavia, please. I've been alive for hundreds of years. And, to be frank, I was you." 

Octavia scowled, wishing to be anywhere else. Mostly, she wished to change what she had done to get there. 

Toward the end of the dark year, Octavia had become a monster out of necessity. Her path to the present was smeared with the blood of those who had been slain in the fighting pits. She'd been forced to separate her feelings from her decisions as a leader, and Niylah had watched all of that occur. Each night, she'd be waiting in Octavia's chambers, ready to lie next to a ruthless leader and pretend that Octavia didn't have any other options. 

Things grew tense between them, and Octavia recognized the toxicity that filled the space between them. On the last night of the dark year, she crawled into bed next to Niylah and shut her eyes, trying not to see the faces of the dead as her stomach digested that night's meal. 

"It's almost over," Niylah said, wrapping herself around the other woman. "Tomorrow, we can put the dark year behind us. We don't have to force people to fight anymore, and we can move past this darkness." She kissed Octavia's forehead, pulling herself closer. 

"People still have to pay for their crimes, and you're a fool for believing we'll ever move past this. This is what we did to survive, and now we live with it." Octavia's tone shifted. She knew that she didn't deserve this comfort after all that she had done.

"I'm a monster, Niylah. It's who I am, and you can't pretend that everything is fine. I've seen how you look at me when I have to make the difficult decisions, and I know how you truly feel. You know that I'm a monster." 

"You don't have to be a monster, Octavia. You're a leader, and you make these decisions so that we may survive."

"And tell me why we deserve to survive. What did _you_ do to deserve the right to live?"

With that question, Niylah stood up and walked away. Octavia knew what had to be done, and she couldn't have Niylah there trying to console her every step of the way. She didn't deserve it. She built up her armor, yet again, making sure that it wouldn't allow anyone through ever again.

As the sun dipped over the horizon, Octavia realized that she did want to live. She wanted to redeem herself in hopes that she may one day reconcile with Bellamy and finally be the woman that Niylah deserved. She smiled to herself next to Diyoza.

"I guess you're right," she said, "I do have something to live for." 


	3. Love and Other Punishments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy, Raven, and Emori adjust to life on Sanctum. Murphy explores the source of the tension between himself and Raven. We find out what actually happened to Murphy during their last year on the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. The first John Murphy chapter. I really wanted to play with Murphy's relationship with the other characters on the ring. I thought it was strange that Murphy is so committed to Emori on the show; it just seems out of character for him. I wanted to explore what might have happened on the ring after they broke up. Also, there's no way I'm going to believe that Raven spent 6 years on the ring and never hooked up with anyone. Note that this chapter begins before Josephine's body snatching situation.

John Murphy was many things, but he was rarely considered honest. He had played many trick cards over the years, always looking out for himself and finding a way to survive. He was a cockroach, if anything. 

He watched Raven and Emori as they worked closely together, making necessary repairs on the equipment they had brought with them to Sanctum. Raven always found something to fix, whether it was broken or not. She looked at the world as if it had endless potential, and there was always something that needed improvement. It was a quality of hers he had always admired. She had even told him on occasion that he had potential, if he would only find a way to make use of it. He smiled to himself watching the two women. Somehow they were completely different while having a multitude of things in common. 

He wondered if they ever talked about him while they worked. The thought gave him goosebumps. John Murphy wasn't an honest man, and neither of them could change him. He wasn't built for romance, and he liked that about himself. It kept people from getting too close. The could never betray him if he never let them in. 

"What are you ladies working on?" He asked, mostly out of boredom. 

They ignored him, Raven laughing as Emori mumbled something under he breath. He was puzzled by their closeness, but he supposed it made sense. They were together on the ring for six years; they needed companionship. 

He wondered if Raven had told Emori about what had happened when his relationship with her had fallen apart. He wondered if Emori knew that she and Raven had shared a lover while on the ring. Then he realized that those nights he spent with Raven had probably meant nothing to her. He wasn't exactly her type. He surveyed the guys Raven had fallen for over the years: Finn, Wick, Shaw...

The all had one thing in common; they were gentlemen. Murphy was quite the opposite. He wasn't the man you introduced to your family, and he wasn't the man you married. He was the man you could share one night with and forget about the next day. 

He locked eyes with Raven and her expression changed, if only for a second. It was long enough. She said something to Emori and walked outside, presumably for some fresh air. For some reason, he felt compelled to follow. 

"Raven, wait up," He said, "I think we need to talk." 

"Sure, Murphy. What about?"

"You haven't told Emori about us, have you?"

She laughed. "You mean our brief fling that occurred about 126 years ago? It's obviously the only thing I talk to her about."

Sarcasm, a trait of Raven's Murphy couldn't help but find endearing. He knew that it was completely ridiculous to bring up, but it always seemed to creep back into his mind. He was with Emori, once again. Why should Raven be an obstacle? He always found a way to ruin relationships on his own; maybe he was just searching for an easy out as he always had. 

The memory of their affair was vivid in his mind, as though it had happened recently. He supposed that their 125 year jump didn't matter, as it had felt like two blinks. The affair was still fresh; she was just denying it. 

When Murphy and Emori ended their relationship, it had been quite a scene. The fighting had been dramatic to say the least, and he decided that the only way to survive being stranded in space with her was to isolate himself. It was he who had pushed her away. Her proximity and tenderness had made him uncomfortable. He wasn't meant to settle down, and he didn't want to be worried for another person's life. 

He had taken his stuff from the quarters they shared and ventured farther into the dark hallways of the ring. He managed to make his way past the quarters that Bellamy secretly escaped to each night until he reached the farthest he could go without opening an airlock. Home sweet home. Hell away from Hell.

He felt like a rat trapped in a corner by a predatory cat. He was suffocating. Even living in isolation, he couldn't escape her. Her presence determined which parts of the ring he could venture to. He couldn't be in the same room with her knowing how they now felt about each other. She was in control, whether they were together or not. 

Murphy locked his door every night to ensure that nobody could make their way into his quarters. He knew he was being paranoid, but his trust issues were nothing new. He found a way to make this space his own, shutting himself out from anyone who tried to force his walls down. They weren't his friends; they just happened to be focused on a similar goal: survival. 

Murphy sat in the floor of his chamber, looking out of the small window at a vast and seemingly empty universe. He had always enjoyed being alone, but this isolation felt heavy. 

A knock sounded at the door. Murphy was hesitant to turn the lock, but he figured that he could use a distraction. 

Raven stood in the doorway, a small smirk on her face. 

"Hey Murphy. Lonely yet?"

He said nothing; he didn't want to admit to being lonely. He simply motioned for her to sit down on his only chair. She ignored him and walked over to the window, taking a seat on the end of his bed and looking out toward Earth.

"Nice view."

"What the hell are you doing here Raven?" He just wanted everyone to let him be. 

"Look, Murphy. I know that you and I haven't always seen eye to eye. I do recall all of the fighting, the shots fired. But, the thing is, nobody deserves to live in complete isolation. I just figured that you needed a familiar face."

"Well I don't," he replied, "I'm perfectly happy being left alone. I don't need anyone."

She stood up. "Sorry to bother you," she muttered, moving toward the door.

He thought about it for a second, and then realized that she was trying. Dammit.

"Raven, wait. I suppose being alone can get boring."

She took his statement as genuine, and she walked back through the door, shutting it behind her. With that, Murphy and Raven somehow became close companions. Spending time together twice weekly. They would watch the world through his tiny window, have strange hypothetical conversations, and search for new ways to entertain themselves. It was the first normal friendship Murphy had; everyone else he simply kept around because he needed something from them. Raven was simply enjoyable to be around. 

One night, they decided to watch an archived baseball game, placing bets on teams and teasing each other. When the game ended, Raven's team was victorious. She jumped up and down, waving her fists in the air as Murphy rolled his eyes at her. 

"Cocky much?" He teased. She scowled at him.

"You're just mad because you chose the wrong team," she said. "Now pay up, Murphy."

"I just remembered that I don't have anything to offer you," he said.

She lunged at him, toppling him. They fell to the floor together, laughing. He rolled over, pinning her down. 

"What are you going to do now? It looks like I've come out on top."

Raven raised her head, pressing her lips to his. "I'm going to maintain the element of surprise."

"Is that so?" He questioned.

He leaned in and kissed her back, harder. The kiss deepened as Murphy pulled her up from the floor. She looked at him carefully, trying to find something in his eyes. 

"Are you sure about this?" She asked.

He replied with a kiss, pushing her onto the bed.

Murphy remembered that first kiss more vividly now then ever as he looked into Raven's eyes. He looked back over at the workshop, where Emori was busy. Raven still stood in front of him, her hands on her hips as she waited for him to say something.

"You know what, Raven? Let's just forget about it. It never happened."

"That's fine with me," she responded, turning and walking away.

He watched her, waiting to see if there was anything telling in the way she carried herself. He sighed to himself, bringing the memory of their intertwined bodies back into focus. 

This was going to be a problem. 


	4. Specters in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Josephine make their way through the woods. She gives him insight that he didn't ask for. Clarke grows tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Josephine would be likely to use Clarke's memories to toy with Bellamy's emotions, so that's the idea for this chapter. I also wanted to do a much needed check in with Clarke to see if she's made and progress in the mind space.

Bellamy found comfort in the weight on the end of his rope. As he tugged Josephine reluctantly behind him, he felt relief that she was in his sight. He would do whatever he had to to keep her from killing Clarke. Maybe if he continued for long enough, she would fall asleep. He trudged on, trying to remember his end goal. Whatever it took, he would bring her back, and he would finally have the courage to give her those letters. 

The letters sat comfortably in a locked box back on the ship that had been their home for the past 125 years. Of course, Bellamy always carried the first letter on his person. He loved the weight of it in his pocket. The three page lament was the most honest thing he'd ever written, and he was both proud and ashamed of it. Ashamed because he had never been brave enough to tell her how he felt. It took her "dying" for him to open up. Oh, the irony. 

Josephine pulled against the rope, still fighting despite the hours of walking. 

"Spoiler alert," she said, "This doesn't end well."

He ignored her, pulling harder against the rope as he made his way through the trees.

"You don't even know where you're going, Bellamy. This is pointless. I don't even understand why you'd want to bring her back. She's never going to be as devoted to you as you are to her."

Bellamy froze.

"I've seen her memories," Josephine continued, "It's so obvious that you're in love with her, yet she never saw it. She's not as smart as she thinks."

"Please... stop talking," he responded, shaking his head and moving forward. 

"You'll always be a sad little servant, always showing up when she asks. High risk, no reward."

"You... don't know anything about us." He didn't know why he was being so defensive. He didn't have to explain himself to her. 

"I know what Clarke knows, though I'm more perceptive than she is."

Bellamy pulled harder on Josephine's restraints. She gasped in pain. 

"Okay fine," she said, "Help yourself. Damage Clarke's body. I can always get another host."

Bellamy ignored her, his thoughts racing through distant memories of her, hands hands, her lips, her smile. They had made so many difficult decisions together, decisions he hadn't been equipped to make himself. Now he was fighting alone, making the decisions by himself in order to secure a future for all of their people. He needed her; he was tired of holding himself back, making the head decisions. 

Suddenly he felt the end of the rope grow heavier. He turned to find Josephine on the ground, passed out from exhaustion.

Clarke was exhausted. She was tired of fighting the demons in Josephine's mind space. She wanted nothing more than to break through, if only just for a second. She wanted to make sure that Bellamy had gotten her message. Maybe it was foolish to hope that after all this time, he'd finally gotten one of her messages. Maybe he didn't care enough to see it. Maybe he didn't consider her his family. The thought hit her square in the chest, taking her by surprise. 

She hadn't realized how much he truly meant to her until he had been forced out of her life, carried away by that damn rocket. She'd spent six years and seven days trying to reach him, to tell him how she felt. She wished she had listened to him before they'd been separated.

"If I don't see you again__"

"You will."

She had cut him off because she was afraid. And now... after everything, she was trapped in her own mind. Bellamy was probably off with Echo, paying no attention to Clarke's body, not knowing that she was alive and trying desperately to save herself. 

She had spent hours in Josephine's mind space, learning everything she could and partially waiting to be destroyed by the EMP that Josephine had likely already constructed, thought Clarke had no idea how much time had passed. She learned about each of Josephine's hosts, their strengths, weaknesses, and what use Josephine had given their bodies. Josephine was cold, calculated, and brilliant. Everything in her mind had a specific location, and Clarke felt overwhelmed by the amount of files. Over two hundred years of information. All she wanted to do was gain full control of her body, even if only for a second. 

She became angry at the thought of being helpless. She didn't cope well with losing control; she'd always been a natural leader. She grabbed a stack of files and flung them across the room. It felt great, freeing. She let the anger take control.

She grabbed books, removing them from their spots and throwing them across the floor, smiling to herself as they landed in various positions. Maybe if she casued enough destruction to Josephine's mind space, she could prevail. 

Suddenly a the door to the mind space was forced open, Josephine storming in.

"What the hell to you think you're doing?!" Josephine yelled, pushing Clarke away from the archives.

"Aren't you supposed to be killing me?" Clarke asked.

"Your boyfriend found out you're alive somehow."

Clarke breathed a small sigh of relief. Her efforts had been noticed. 

"You're ruining everything, Clarke, for the both of us. Trashing my mind is only weakening your body. I can't keep fighting this, and neither can you. Eventually your body is going to die, and I'm going to have to find a new host, which is really just a pain in the ass. I'd suggest that you quit now; I can't keep passing out in the middle of the woods." 

"I'm not giving up," Clarke said, "I want to live."

"This was so much easier when you were compliant. Bellamy says hello, by the way. Well, actually, he never said that, but he did say some other things." 

"Leave him alone," Clarke hissed, "This is between you and me."

"He made himself a part of this when he kidnapped me and dragged me out into the woods."

Clarke couldn't help but feel relieved, despite the dire circumstances. He was making an attempt to save her. 

Suddenly, Josephine had disappeared. Clarke wanted to bring her back, to knock over more books and files until Josephine was forced to remain in that space with her. She wanted to buy Bellamy some time, but she couldn't afford to do that kind of damage to her body. She could only hope that Bellamy had a plan, or something close. He had come through, once again. She made a promise to herself; she would open up to him when she got back. She would make up for the time they had lost, and she would finally listen to him.

Bellamy shook Josephine, attempting to wake her so that they could move forward. She had been passed out for five minutes, and he was too tired to carry her. Suddenly, she jolted awake, confused as if she had been dreaming.

"We have to keep moving. You have to stay awake," he said. 

She smirked, making Clarke's features appear alien. "That shouldn't be a problem."


End file.
